


Night Dogs

by grandilloquism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hogwarts, Kissing, M/M, Old Married Couple, R/S Games 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandilloquism/pseuds/grandilloquism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius considers himself practically elderly at 35, Remus manages to scare up some adventure for his birthday, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2015 R/S Games on Livejournal. The title is from the song of the same name by The Love Language. 
> 
>  
> 
> There are descriptions of food and eating in this fic, as well as an offhand mention of death. Be kind to yourselves.

Remus woke early the third day of November. There was a chill, misting rain falling, and the cat was scratching at the door. Remus shifted under the heavy weight of the blankets and looked down from the high perch of the bed in the loft, into the narrow view of the kitchen below. The fire had gone out sometime in the night and it seemed the heating charms had passed their time for renewal. 

Sirius was snoring gently, his head tucked into the crook of his arm, his hair a black tangle against the white sheets. Remus pressed a kiss into his hair, not quite resisting the temptation to nuzzle a little, before climbing out of bed and pulling his bathrobe on against the chill. 

The cat snaked in the door the moment Remus had it open wide enough, and the gust of late autumn wind that followed in behind her shocked Remus’ nose into dripping immediately. Remus pulled his robe more tightly against himself and went to light the fire in the grate. 

The first of the packages arrived as Remus was cracking eggs into a mixing bowl. It was Lily’s owl, Bucephalus, water dewed on his black feathers and a heavy envelope clutched in his talons. Two owls, an osprey, and a raven came and went before the eggs were cooked through, so close together that Remus felt sure they were circling the house, letting one fly off before the next descended. The sundry parcels and envelopes were all addressed in various manners to Sirius Black, and Remus took care placing each of them on the dining table. 

Sirius came down from bed just as another bird arrived scratching at the window. “Gods above,” he said when he caught sight of the tidy pile already awaiting him at the table. “If I had known it only took turning 35 to get this much attention I would have tried harder to die in my sleep.”

Remus went to the window, coughing a laugh. “It’s a special day,” he said over his shoulder, only a little mocking, opening the glass to the tawny owl on the ledge. He fed it from the tin of owl treats on the sill and untied the package from it’s leg. The paper-wrapped box grew in his hands until it was roughly book-sized.

“Maybe to everyone who wants to be congratulated for remembering I still exist,” Sirius sniped, poking at one of the gifts as if he were expecting it to poke back. Remus couldn’t say when Sirius’ antipathy towards his own birthday had begun, but he could say about eighty percent of it was for show. 

Remus saw the owl off and crossed the room to press the box into Sirius hands, indicating the card stuck to its front. “You can’t tell you believe with any conviction that Minerva sent this to you with an eye towards obligation.” 

Sirius frowned down at the neat green copperplate spelling out ‘Mr. Sirius Black.’ Remus took advantage of his bafflement to press a kiss to his cheek and retrieve their breakfast plates from under the warming charm. 

“But why?” Sirius asked, when they were sat at the table and Remus was pouring the tea.

“Why what?” Remus asked, knowing perfectly well but still wanting Sirius to articulate it.

“McGonagall,” he said, in tones of deep betrayal. “Why would she—” he broke off, apparently too overcome to continue. 

“Minerva McGonagall,” Remus said, drawing the words out so as to impart maximum effect, “likes you.” 

“Moony!” Sirius cried, as though Remus had just said that Minerva could go suck eggs. “You take that back!” 

Remus held a straight face. “She refers to you as my Mr. Black.”

Sirius stared at him blankly. 

“As in,” he clarified, taking on a light Scots accent, “‘Remus, how is your Mr. Black today?’” He took up his fork, a glow of enormous smugness warming him from the inside at Sirius’ look of wide-eyed horror. 

He had made a good dent in his eggs before Sirius began to rip away the paper. “What—” he started, when he had the wrapping off, then huffed out a laugh, pushing it across the table.

It was not a book; it was a sheaf of official looking papers, bearing the title Ministry of Magic Prospective Animagus Registration. Remus flipped through the thick pile of papers to find that all of the sections requiring a Master’s signature bore a pair of looped M’s and the bulk of the papers was filled out by a section at the back, containing a detailed log of meetings between McGonagall and Sirius supposedly dating back two years. 

“That old cat,” Remus said, a little awed and smiling. Remus couldn’t pinpoint when Minerva had caught on to them, though he was sure her code of professional ethics hadn’t included turning a blind eye to underaged wizards practicing dangerous transfiguration while still actually in her care, but she had been dropping broad hints for years.

Sirius was holding the note, his attitude one of utter incredulity. “Mr. Black,” he read aloud. “I’ve made an appointment for you the morning of the 24th at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to complete your registration. Contact me beforehand so we might corroborate the details. Best of birthday wishes, Minerva McGonagall.”

Remus smiled into his teacup, “Practical, autocratic, but thoughtful. I told you she likes you.”

Sirius had affected a look of disdain, but Remus could see the twitch of his lips. “Well, if she considers subjecting me to the Ministry a token of her regard, I’d of preferred she hadn’t bothered.”

Remus reached across the table, flicking Sirius lightly on the nose. “Bad dog,” he said, then knocked his chair over in his haste to get away as Sirius leapt to his feet, chasing Remus around the living room before he let himself be tackled onto the sofa. Crowing his triumph, Sirius pushed him into the cushions, heavy and warm and breathless with laughter. 

“Happy Birthday,” Remus said, beaming up at him. 

Sirius ignored him, pressing a warm, sweet kiss to Remus’ lips, instead. 

~~  
They sneaked into Hogwarts late that evening. Of course, Remus was sure it didn’t quite count as sneaking if they came in using his office Floo, but there was still something of the old adventure as he stepped out of the grate just in time for Sirius to come spinning in after him. The lights had come up, illuminating the essays he had yet to mark and the big tank still full of water from Wednesday’s grindylow lesson, but he sent them back down, so the only illumination was the sharp emerald flare of the fire. 

Sirius stumbled out into the room, and Remus smiled at him in the thin light. “Happy Birthday.”

“Moony,” Sirius said, very gravely, lighting his wand and lifting it high to spread light across the cluttered desk and belabored shelves. Sirius, though an enthusiastic giver, was often an indifferent receiver of gifts, and Remus had, over their long, lazy afternoon together, built up the suspense until Sirius had reached his current state of expectant agitation. “Unless your present is you actually ravishing me on your office desk than I completely fail to see what we’re doing here.” 

Remus took a clutch of paper from his inner coat pocket and began to unfold it. When he had it out against the table he turned to Sirius, smiling. “Borrowed this from a friend,” he said. “Would you care to do the honors?”

There was a spark to Sirius’ eyes, and his smile stretched crooked across his face. “Professor Lupin,” he said archly, “are we sneaking through the corridors after curfew? Have you gotten me trouble for my birthday?” 

Remus affected his ‘lecturing professor’ tone, “If one is able to gift a person an intangibility, then yes, Sirius, I have gotten you trouble.” 

“One can, and one has,” Sirius said, enunciating obnoxiously. He kissed Remus, chaste and sweet and still smiling, then drew his wand. “I solemnly swear,” he said, tapping the unfolded map, “that I am up to no good.”

Ink bloomed on the paper, flowing like a tide until it filled the map with the drunken sprawl of the castle and the regimented order of its students, each tucked away into their beds. Remus traced a finger over their own names, standing close enough to jumble the letters on the page, the room labeled Professor Lupin’s Office in the careful script of Remus’ much younger hand. 

Sirius sighed, sounding wistful. “We were good, weren’t we?”

Remus thought of all those nights spent exploring the castle in the dark, every cold dingy corner and grand sweeping arch of it, the dungeons and the towers and everything in between. “We were the best.”

Sirius clucked his tongue, his eyes still on the map. “We certainly thought so.” He looked up, then, his expression open and his eyes warm. “Tell me, then, Moony, where are we off to?”

Remus quirked him a smile. “If you can’t tell me where two people might go in Hogwarts to find a quiet moment then I think you’ve quite lost your touch, Padfoot.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows went up, “It’s like that, eh?”

There was a familiar warmth stirring in Remus’ chest, mischief and love and affection all running together. “I had thought you might appreciate a bit of a trip down memory lane.”

Sirius held out his elbow for Remus, overly solicitous and winking. Remus took it, bowing theatrically from the waist, and they stepped out into the castle. 

~~

They passed quietly through the corridors, stopping here and there to check the map, occasionally ducking behind tapestries or into empty classrooms to avoid the professors or prefects patrolling the hallways. Remus had the curious sensation of feeling adrift in time, as if at any moment he might turn the corner and find himself as he was twenty years ago, mirrored exactly from the man at his side to the map in his hands. If Sirius felt something similar he didn’t say and, eventually, after much circuitous evading, Remus took his hand and led him up the steps of the Astronomy Tower.

“Like old times,” Sirius said, bumping his hip against Remus’ as they reached the top. Above them the stars were spread out like jewels, bright and clear in the cold air. All around them were the forested mountains, their summits faded into the gloaming so that they gave the appearance of going on forever, the moon, high above, shading into full, and beneath it all the Black Lake, a reflecting pool of starlight stretched across the grounds.

Remus slanted him a smile, the buzz of adrenaline bringing back the old memories. “Do you remember your seventeenth birthday?” he asked. 

Sirius grimaced, but his eyes were up on the sky, tracing the patterns that they had learned together, so long ago. “18 years ago, today, gods all help us.” 

“You’re an old man, now, Sirius,” Remus said, dryly. “Soon you’ll be growing out your beard and harassing shopkeepers.”

Sirius swatted at him, his eyes bright with starlight. He looked fragile to Remus, then, his face lost to shadow and his hair falling artless and soft about his face. “I do remember my seventeenth birthday,” Sirius said, low and warm. “As it happens.”

“Remind me?” Remus asked, his eyebrows arching high. “I think I’ve forgotten.”

“You’ve forgotten,” Sirius repeated, disbelief writ across his face. “Tell me, which part is it that you’ve forgotten, Remus? The part where I shouted at you and ran here because I was seventeen and a melodramatic git, or the part where you followed me up here and told me you couldn’t understand how you liked me so much when you spent all of your time wanting to smack me across the face, or, is the part your forgetting where I screwed up all my much lauded Gryffindor courage and kissed you against the wall?”

Remus pretended to think about it. “That last one does sound familiar.” 

“Oh, does it?” Sirius asked, grinning, and then kissed him, up against the wall.


End file.
